


Sword Fights and First Dates

by JiniZ



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Dates, Fluff, Garth is a godsend, Gas-N-Sip, M/M, Neither of them is all that confident, aka the one that looks like vermicious knids, hot dog swords, the blurb shirt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:38:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4328817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JiniZ/pseuds/JiniZ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garth owns a Gas N Sip. Gabriel is his employee. Sam is the customer who makes Gabriel tongue tied. Until he doesn't.</p><p>Nothing but silliness and fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sword Fights and First Dates

Garth looked up at the CCTV monitor, shook his head and laughed. Gabriel was at it again. This time he was using a rope-style Twizzler as a makeshift lasso to try and grab a pack of Marlboro’s off the top shelf for a customer. Garth updated the Purchase Order report, closed the program, and headed out to the counter to help Gabriel.

Garth sidled up beside him, reached the pack with ease and set it on the counter for the customer.

Gabriel huffed. “I could have gotten it, you know.” He rang up the cigarettes, soda, and condoms for the guy in front of him. “Big night,” he asked.

“‘S’what I’m hopin’ for.” The burly man with the slight Cajun accent winked at Gabriel, ran his card through the machine, declined a receipt and left, Gabriel following his butt the entire way. 

He was jolted out of his butt trance by a smack from Garth. “Quit staring. You’ll scare them away.”

“Nah. None of them are scared by me. I’m certain I wasn’t his type anyway.” Gabriel sighed thinking about the one that was his type: tall, muscled, long hair, and the personality of an overactive golden retriever. 

Sam. The name flipped around his brain and made him smile. 

“You ever gonna do something about that crush you’ve got on him?” Garth crossed his arms and leaned on the back counter. He knew the answer already, but he needed Gabriel to say it anyway.

Gabriel sighed. “I wish. No. He’s out of my league.”

“He’s been in here every morning for a month for his coffee, although God only knows why he doesn’t just go to the organic, free-trade, pretentious place across the street for something more upscale instead of our swill, and you’ve said maybe seven words to him outside of Good morning, Sam, or A buck seventy six, in all that time.”

“I’ve said more than seven words to him,” Gabriel frowned.

“Prove it,” Garth shot back.

“I told him I liked his tie that one time.”

Garth counted on his fingers. “I. Like. Your. Tie. That’s four words.”

Gabe thought a little bit more. “Oh! I asked him what he did for a living.”

“Whaddaya. Do. Two words,” Garth counted again.

“No. I said more than that. I think it was more like, so, whatcha do.” Gabriel counted the words. “Shit.”

Garth snickered. “Yeah. That’s only three. So seven words total. You need to work on your flirting.” 

“Says the man who’s been in a committed, monogamous relationship for the past fifteen years.”

“You’re just jealous. You’ll find your Cinderfella one of these days. You need more confidence.”

“Oh, I’ve got confidence. Just not when it comes to him.” Gabriel flopped face-first on the counter. “It all goes right out the window when Sam comes in here. I don’t know what it is.”

“You like him ya idjit.” Garth smiled fondly at him. “Just test the waters a little. See if he’s interested back.”

“I can’t. He’s stupidly tall and adorable and dresses impeccably, and I’m standing here in a Gas ‘N Sip shirt with my name on it.”

“He’s also standing right in front of you,” Garth said. 

Gabriel shot up so fast, he almost fell over as the blood drained from his face. There was no one there. “You bastard.” He grabbed a hot dog out of the case and waved it at Garth like a sword. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.” 

Garth grabbed his own hot dog and brandished it at Gabriel. “En garde!”

The two fought for a few minutes with Garth getting the upper hand by landing a greasy blow to Gabriel’s cheek. “Ha!” he shouted. “Take that!”

“Oh, that’s it. The gloves. Are. Off.” And with that, Gabriel fought his way back, and had pushed Garth back to the other end of the counter when the bell rang signalling a customer. They both froze and looked at the door. 

Sam.

“Oh, fuck me,” Gabriel muttered, broken hot dog still in his hand. 

Garth tossed his hot dog in the trash and muttered something about inventory in the back room and made a mad dash out the employee door.

Gabriel shook himself out of his momentary stupor and dropped the hot dog in the trash. He wiped his hands on his jeans, smiling awkwardly at Sam. What the hell is he doing here, he wondered. He never stops by in the afternoon.

Sam motioned to Gabriel’s cheek saying, “You’ve got a little something….”

Gabriel touched his cheek saying, “Fuck. Hot dog grease.” He wiped at his face in an effort to get it off. “Gone?” He looked into Sam’s eyes and swore internally. No one should be allowed to look that good.

“Almost,” Sam said. He started to reach across the counter but paused when he realized what he was doing. “May I?” 

“Sure.” Gabriel was surprised at how steady his voice sounded considering his knees were going to give out on him the second Sam touched him.

Sam closed the gap and when he touched Gabe’s cheek to wipe the grease off, he shocked the shorter man. “Oh!” he pulled his hand back and laughed. “Sorry about that.”

“I’ve heard of sparks flying, but not literally.” Did he just say that? Did those words just come out of his mouth? Really? Shit. 

Sam reached across again and touched Gabe’s cheek lightly, using just enough pressure to wipe away the small spot still left there. “Got it.” 

“Thanks, Sam.” Gabriel couldn’t meet Sam’s eyes. 

“You’re welcome, Gabe.”

“So, whatcha doing here? Got a late night you need to fuel up on?” He swirled his finger over the Coca Cola logo on the counter mat and silently counted the words in his head. Ten. Shut up, Garth.

“I’m not sure yet. It’s going to depend on the answer I get.” 

Was Sam blushing? Never. No way in hell. “Ah. Waiting on coworkers is never a good thing.”

“No, I actually meant your answer.” 

“What?” Gabe had no idea what Sam was talking about. “My answer?”

Sam blew out a breath. “You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?” He took another deep breath and said, “Doyouwanttogoouttonight?”

Gabriel was certain he’d heard Sam wrong. There was no way Sam had asked what Gabe thought he’d asked. Gabe blinked slowly. “Do what?”

But before Sam could answer, they heard a voice shout “He just asked you out, you idjit!”

Gabe dropped his chin to his chest resignedly. Sam looked around for who had spoken. 

“That was Garth. My boss and hot dog sword fighting partner.” He threw his thumb in the direction of the security camera. 

Sam took note of the camera and smiled. “Ah.” 

Gabriel was about to answer Sam but apparently wasn’t fast enough for Garth who yelled, “Tell him yes, Gabriel, or your getting switched to closing!”

“I was just about to,” Gabriel shouted back. He looked back at Sam, who was smiling broadly. “So, um. Yes?”

“Great! When do you get off?” Sam’s face fell when he realized what he just said.

Gabe smirked, his confidence returning now that he knew Sam liked him too. “Here, 4:30. Later tonight is open, though.”

Sam blushed. “I’ll see you at 4:30, then.” He turned toward the door and turned back twice on his way out the door. 

“I told you,” Garth said through the open door. 

“You did no such thing. Now shut up and let me run home to get a change of shirts.”

“Fine. Be gone. And you better grab the blurb shirt, because that’s the one that’s most likely to get you laid!”

“Yes, Boss.”


End file.
